


#SavingItForUncleSam2k16

by greenbergsays



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Touch-Starved, Touchy-Feely
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:11:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5296151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greenbergsays/pseuds/greenbergsays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finally confides in Bucky why he's so reluctant to accept Natasha's dating "help." And Bucky, well. He'll always help his pal out.</p><p>--</p><p>Or the one where Steve's never had sex and Bucky pretends to be his boyfriend so that no one else will find out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	#SavingItForUncleSam2k16

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldbluehalo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldbluehalo/gifts).



> Prompt: "Steve avoids dating/getting too close to anyone in the future because he’s embarrassed about his inexperience. Cue Bucky helping his BFF out by pretending to be his boyfriend."
> 
> With bonus touch-starvation! Because I'm trash and I love the idea that they're both so touch-needy in the future.

Bucky stepped out of the Stark Tower elevator, a six pack in one hand and his other hand - his left hand - stuffed into his jacket pocket, clenched so tightly he wouldn’t be surprised if the metal was denting.

The lights of their apartment were dimmed and outside, the skyline was lit up against the backdrop of night. On the couch, Steve was slouched comfortably in a pair of flannel pajama bottoms and a white tank, waiting for him to get back. The remote was in his hand and he was scrolling through their shared Netflix account with a small frown on his face. Bucky knew that frown well; he was having a hard time choosing what to watch.

And he looked good. Relaxed and comfortable the way he never was around the others. He tried so hard to be the Captain for his teammates, be the legend they all grew up hearing about. But here, in their apartment, he never tried to be anything other than Steve Rogers. ‘Cause Steve was always the one that Bucky liked best.

A huge bowl of freshly made popcorn sat on the coffee table in front of him, its scent filling the air, and beside it was a half-eaten bag of chips. Bucky set the beer next to them and shrugged off his jacket, tossing it in the seat of the recline across the room.

“The store busy?” Steve asked, looking away from the television screen to study Bucky’s face.

It was his way of asking what had taken Bucky so long. Not uncalled for, really, since Bucky should’ve been back twenty minutes ago.

“Something like that,” Bucky replied.

He flopped down on the couch, slouching into the corner opposite of Steve, sprawling comfortably. Steve was still looking at him, watching him, waiting for more. With his metal fingers, he gestured for Steve to come closer.

“C’mere, you big lug,” he said, though it was unnecessary.

Steve started moving as soon as he saw the gesture, scooting across the couch and crawling over the leg Bucky had stretched across the cushions. He ended up sitting between Bucky’s thighs, leaning back against his chest.

Burying his nose behind Steve’s ear, Bucky closed his eyes and took a slow, deep breath. As his scent filled Bucky’s lungs, as the world narrowed down to Steven Grant Rogers, the tension finally began to drain from his body. His heartbeat finally slowed, dropping to its normal pace rather than the uptick of mild panic that had threatened to overwhelm him for the small eternity it took to get back here. He was only vaguely aware of his flesh arm wrapped around Steve’s chest, holding him close, but he felt Steve’s hand resting over it, fingers rubbing soothing circles into his skin as he held perfectly still for Bucky.

Now, Bucky’s memories were pretty touch-and-go. Foggy, fuzzy, faded; whatever word suited best. They were there, even if he usually didn’t realize that he remembered something until the situation came up. But he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they never used to touch like this. This was too intimate.

He didn’t care. Steve was his anchor, his life raft. The only thing keeping his head above water against the maelstrom of memories and emotions that sometimes threatened to overwhelm him. Steve, he felt, was the very foundation upon which Bucky’s sanity had been built.

Maybe not the healthiest way to cope. But it worked for him and Steve, at the very least, didn’t seem to mind that his best friend needed to cling to him like a limpet in order to calm his racing mind. In fact, some days Bucky thought that Steve needed him in the same ways.

Different from how they used to need each other but still as vital.

“What happened?” Steve asked softly after a minute.

“Nothing,” Bucky murmured, rolling his forehead back and forth against Steve. He inhaled again, taking in Steve’s scent - the scent of _home_ \- and calmed even further. “Just got spooked, is all. Natalia didn’t help matters much. Scared the shit outta me in the elevator.”

“You guys didn’t dent it again, did you?” Steve asked, leaning away so that he could crane his neck to look at Bucky. “‘Cause you know how JARVIS feels about that. And Tony gets upset when you upset JARVIS.”

“It was  _one time,_ ” Bucky protested, grumbling. “No, we didn’t _dent_ it. There may be a scratch or two, though, which I firmly believe I’m not at fault for. Who tries to sneak up on an ex-assassin? Honestly.”

In his arms, Steve began to shake and it only took a second for Bucky to realize the little shit was laughing at him.

“ _Seriously_ , Rogers? This is how you treat me after all our years of friendship?”

“Okay,” Steve says, his voice slightly higher than normal with the effort it took to keep his laughter at bay. “Okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Now, uh. What did Natasha want?”

“Fuck if I even know,” Bucky told him, shrugging. “Can’t even remember. Something about you and the word _yes_ but --”

He fell silent, frowning at the back of Steve’s head. Against him, Steve had tensed so suddenly, gone rigid in his arms the way he only ever was when he was playing Cap for the world. Something was very, very wrong.

“What?” Bucky asked, tugging at him to try and get a look at his face.

When that didn’t work, Bucky moved, scooting until he was half-standing, leaning around Steve’s broad shoulders to get a look at him. His expression, when Bucky finally got a look at it, was pinched and cagey. His gaze was steadfastly directed off to the side in avoidance, shoulders climbing higher and higher until they were near up around his ears.

It was an anxiety response. The closest thing to one that Steve would let himself have, at least.

Bucky didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit. This place, this apartment, it was supposed to a safe space. Safe for the both of them. No matter what they had to face outside these walls, no matter who they had to be or how they had to act once they stepped into that elevator, this was supposed to be a place where those expectations couldn’t touch them.

To have unwittingly brought it in, made Steve feel like this in their _home_? It broke his heart.

“What is it?” Bucky asked. “What’s Natasha up to that has you actin’ like this?”

Steve didn’t answer right away but Bucky wasn’t discouraged. He waited patiently until Steve finally sighed and scooted forward, turning so they could face each other comfortably. Bucky sat back into his seat but he didn’t relax. This tension, at least, he could deal with.

“Nat’s been...trying to set me up on dates,” Steve said, wincing.

That -- wasn’t what Bucky had been expecting, honestly. He frowned.

“But you don’t want to go,” he replied slowly. “And she wants me...to convince you?”

“I think so, yeah.”

Made sense. If Natalia couldn’t convince Steve of something, then it was very likely that no one could. Except for maybe Bucky, who’d known Steve the longest and who knew how to get him to do things he was reluctant to do.

“So why don’t you want to?” He asked, reaching over to crack open two beers. Steve took his gratefully, helping himself to a few gulps.

“Don’t know if you remember,” Steve said and it wasn’t meant as a slight. He spoke genuinely, candidly, and Bucky appreciated that. “But back before the war. Before, y’know, all of this --”

He gestured awkwardly to his body, the broad shoulders and toned muscle.

“I was, well. Not very popular with -- anyone, really, ‘cept you. But what I’m tryin’ to say is, I’d never -- I mean, I’m not -- I haven’t --”

“No sex,” Bucky supplied for him, taking pity on his embarrassed flush, the stuttering that said he was getting himself too worked up. “I remember.”

“Oh,” Steve looked up, relieved. “Okay. Well, that -- that’s still true.”

Understanding dawned. Stevie, he was still inexperienced, untested. But he also happened to be a living legend; Captain America, their oldest hero. That last part, it came with certain expectations.

“And you don’t want anyone to know,” Bucky finished. “Because you’re embarrassed?”

“I’m not,” Steve started quickly but then stopped again, taking in a deep breath as he rubbed at his eyes. Calmly, he said, “It’s not about embarrassment, Buck. I just don’t want to wake up one morning to see a -- a fucking _hashtag_ about Captain America being a ninety year old virgin or something because someone wanted their fifteen minutes.”

“So you’re just abandoning romance altogether?” Bucky abandoned his beer to the ground, leaning forward to knock his fist lightly against Steve’s jaw. Steve turned his head, laughing softly. “C’mon, Stevie, you’ve been starry-eyed and lonely since the day I met ya. Waitin’ for that special someone to show up and see how great you are. There’s gotta be someone as smart as Peggy Carter out there, just waitin’ for you to give ‘em a chance.”

“I haven’t been lonely since we met,” Steve protested, of course grabbing on to the most insignificant part of Bucky’s speech. “Maybe _when_ we met. But not since. Not until -- until the train. And not now.”

When Bucky realized what he was saying, his expression softened, chest feeling far too tight to breathe properly. That punk.

“Jesus, you sap,” he said softly, grinning. “Alright, Stevie, alright. You win. You don’t wanna date? I’m on your side. I’ll get Natalia to stop harassin’ you.”

Steve’s expression went through a series of complicated movements, relief and apprehension chief among them.

“How?” He asked finally and he definitely sounded wary.

“Don’t know yet. But you just leave it to me; I’ll think of something.”

\--

By the next morning, Bucky still didn’t have anything resembling a plan. Natalia was a tough woman to dissuade from a course of action that she thought was right and an even tougher woman to fool.

It came to him quite suddenly, though -- the way to get her to back off -- when he walked into their kitchen to find Natalia already there, already trying to strongarm Steve into giving an affirmative answer.

“She’s very nice,” she was saying. “No piercings, no secret identity. Just a normal girl from the Stark Industries marketing department. I promise, you’ll like her.”

See, things in the Rogers-Barnes apartment happened a certain way. They had a routine.

Steve was always first one awake. He went on his morning run, came back to start the coffee, and showered. By the time he got out, the coffee was ready and he fixed himself a cup, sitting in his spot at their table -- the one nearest to the door, the seat where his back _had_ to be to the door, leaving the one against the wall available -- and waiting for Bucky to join him.

Every morning, Bucky shuffled in and said his good mornings, clapped Steve on the shoulder, squeezed a little just to orient himself. Touch was so important now, it was the difference between captivity and freedom, the way Bucky reminded himself that his nightmares were no longer his reality.

When he’d realized this, realized why Bucky did the same thing every morning, Steve started forgoing shirts after his shower.

This morning was no different and Bucky rested his flesh hand on his shoulder, pressing his fingers in just a little because he could; because Steve never minded, just like he never minded the cuddling, the way Bucky anchored himself through scent as well as touch. And just like every morning, Steve absently lifted a hand to cover Bucky’s in reassurance, their fingers sliding together.

It never failed to flash through his mind, the knowledge of this casual intimacy they shared. The difference of their touch now compared to their childhood. He didn’t know if it was because of this new century, because no one cared the way they used to, or if it was because of all the things they’d been through. The ways they needed this intimacy when they hadn’t before.

Maybe it was both. Maybe it didn’t matter. No use in wondering about things that wouldn’t change.

“I’m sure she’s nice,” Steve said. “But the answer’s still no.”

“You haven’t even given her a chance,” she replied distractedly. She was trying to stay in the conversation but her gaze kept flickering to their joined hands.

No one really witnessed this, their little routine. No one had ever been around before. Mornings belonged to them and it was only after breakfast that the team usually began to mingle.

It was her attention, the ever-present knowledge of this intimacy, that gave Bucky the idea. Although, it wasn’t so much an idea as an epiphany, slamming into him as forcefully as any blow.

“Natalia,” he said and then Steve shifted under his hand, tensing just a little. He didn’t know what was coming next and the inability to prepare himself made him anxious. “Leave him alone.”

Bucky switched to Russian, which might’ve been a little unfair, but at least Steve wouldn’t blow this plan all to hell before it really got going. He spoke quickly, far too fast for Steve’s beginner knowledge to pick out even a single word, but Natalia understood just fine. When her expression twisted in surprise, Steve tensed even further.

She snapped back just as quickly, eyes cutting suspiciously until she looked at their hands again. For several moments, the kitchen was quiet as she mulled it over in her mind. Finally, she nodded. She didn’t look completely convinced but it didn’t seem outside the realm of possibility for her and that was enough for now.

The rest could be orchestrated.

Natalia looked away from him, turning to Steve. “Why didn’t you just tell me, Rogers?”

“Um,” Steve said and Bucky didn’t have to see his face to know that he was panicking.

“Because he wasn’t gonna do that without discussing it with me first,” Bucky answered for him. “And because it’s not something either of us are used to talking about.”

She looked appropriately chastised by this last part. At least, as chastised as a woman like Natalia Romanova could ever be. But it was enough.

“Now if you don’t mind,” Bucky said, not unkindly. “We usually have breakfast alone.”

Whatever she read from this statement, it amused her. She smirked at him, rising from her seat.

“I bet you do,” she said as she walked past them, her tone heavy with innuendo.

Bucky tracked her movements all the way to the elevator. Steve must have been doing the same thing but he didn’t speak - hardly even breathed - until the elevator doors were closed and Natalia was on her way back to her own floor. Or possibly to someone else’s. Didn’t matter, so long as it wasn’t theirs.

Finally, Steve whispered, “what did you tell her?”

“Oh, nothing, really,” Bucky lied as he went to get himself that cup of coffee. “Just that she couldn’t set you up with anyone ‘cause we were already dating.”

He turned around just in time to watch Steve spit a mouthful of his own coffee across their kitchen table.

 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I'm on [Tumblr](http://greenbergsays.tumblr.com) as well.


End file.
